The lyrics of "I'm Old Fashioned" were one of the only things that didn't ring true during Tony Bennett's wondrous concert at Muriel Kauffman Theatre on Friday. Backed by a refined jazz quartet, Bennett crooned Johnny Mercer's lyric about possessing an affinity for "old fashioned things."

The lyrics of "I'm Old Fashioned" were one of the only things that didn't ring true during Tony Bennett's wondrous concert at Muriel Kauffman Theatre on Friday. Backed by a refined jazz quartet, Bennett crooned Johnny Mercer's lyric about possessing an affinity for "old fashioned things."

Good taste and exceptional talent never go out of style. Bennett exhibited a wealth of both qualities for an audience of about 1,500.

Bennett, 87, showed few signs of slowing down in an unfailingly vital 70-minute performance. He displayed a few snazzy dance moves and enthusiastically pitched his forthcoming album with pop star Lady Gaga. Most importantly, his voice remains powerful. He sang a portion of the closing number "Fly Me to the Moon" off microphone. Liberated from the slightly processed sound field, Bennett's voice was gruffer but no less inviting than it was at the beginning of his career.

"I Left My Heart in San Francisco," the 1962 hit that serves as Bennett's signature song, received the biggest ovation. He imbued the chestnut with life-affirming warmth. He wrung every ounce of pathos from a melodramatic version of "Maybe This Time," yet Bennett's incontrovertible sincerity allowed him to get away with the histrionics.

The subdued material was just as momentous. Performed at a whisper, a tender interpretation of "But Beautiful" was stunning. A gripping saloon-style rendition of "Once Upon a Time" was despairingly bleak. A hymn-like reading of Charlie Chaplin's "Smile" was delivered with acute conviction.

After opening the show with a pleasing 20-minute set, Antonia Bennett returned for an endearing duet with her father on "Old Friends." Both vocalists were provided with sublime support from pianist Mike Renzi, guitarist Gray Sargent, bassist Marshall Wood and drummer Harold Jones. Obviously delighted by the contributions of the accomplished jazz musicians, Bennett signaled his approval of several solos with a hearty thumbs up.

A master of what he characterizes as "the art of intimate singing," Bennett is one of the last surviving classic crooners. Yet his ability to evolve without compromising his art prevents him from appearing musty.

Bennett introduced "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" as "the very first song I ever recorded." The operatic undercurrent of his initial version of the song now seems preposterously overblown. Friday's jazz-based arrangement was impeccably fashionable. The transformation provides key insights into Bennett's longevity. Rather than merely persevering, Friday's outing indicates that Bennett continues to improve.